Puzzle Lovers Find Their Tribe at a Crossword Tournament

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Seven time champion Dan Feyer, Erik Agard, the eventual winner, and David Plotkin at the 2018 American Crossword Puzzle Tournament, held at the Marriott Hotel in Stamford.CreditCreditBenjamin Norman for The New York Times

Stamford, Conn. — Erik Agard, of Gaithersburg, Md., is a 24-year-old activist in his daily life, but he is no slouch in the crossword puzzle speed-solving department, either. He had never made it to the A division finals, but at the most recent American Crossword Puzzle Tournament, which was held last weekend Sunday, he found himself 50 points ahead of a seven-time champion, Dan Feyer of San Francisco.

Mr. Agard walked up to the board, crushed his oversize Afro with a pair of noise-cancelling headphones and handily dispatched the puzzle. Mr. Feyer solved the puzzle in 8:08 flat, but he was no match for Mr. Agard’s 4:58 solve. Long live the new king, at least for this year.

The host of the tournament, The New York Times’s crossword editor, Will Shortz, announced Mr. Agard’s victory and the audience leapt to their feet. People swarmed both the new champion and the unseated one to offer congratulations and consolation for making it that far.

Founded in 1978 by Mr. Shortz, the A.C.P.T. was originally a way for him to find his own tribe.

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Will Shortz addressing the crowd on day two.CreditBenjamin Norman for The New York Times

“One of my main goals in life is to connect people through puzzles,” he said, “A crossword tournament is one way — maybe the best way — to do this. Puzzle people tend to be smart, educated, interesting, and well-rounded people with lively minds. They’re the sort of people I like to be around.”

He is not alone. Some might find the idea of speed-solving New York Times crossword puzzles intimidating, but even newcomers are quickly embraced. Dawn Ross, of Santa Monica, Calif., is an enthusiastic participant because she had “never been part of something that is so egalitarian. You just have to like puzzles and then you’re part of the club.”

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Josephine Quiñones hard at work on a puzzle.CreditBenjamin Norman for The New York Times

There are two kinds of people, crossword puzzle solvers like to say: those for whom working puzzles is a strictly solitary pursuit, and those who prefer to celebrate them with hundreds of friends over a weekend that closely resembles a family reunion of fervent word lovers.

For the latter group, walking through the revolving doors of the Marriott Hotel in Stamford, Conn., each spring is like coming home. Angela Olsen Halsted, of Arlington, Va., is not only a dedicated solver but has also had four crossword puzzles published in The New York Times. She calls this weekend her “happy place.”

In the crowded lobby on Friday afternoon, warm hugs were exchanged, puns were suitably groaned at and more than a few brave souls donned crossword-themed clothing, including Karen Chu of San Francisco, who strolled nonchalantly through the lobby dressed as a pencil.

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Karen Chu, in pencil costume, hard at work on one of the puzzles.CreditBenjamin Norman for The New York Times

On Friday evening, Mr. Shortz welcomed more than 670 contestants to the Marriott ballroom, noting that the turnout was the largest since the “Wordplay” bump, the sudden increase in attendance attributed to the 2006 documentary. It has gotten so popular that HBO’s “Real Sports with Bryant Gumbel” was filming an upcoming episode around the tournament.

On Saturday morning, the contestants gathered for the first puzzle, a relatively straightforward one meant to ease competitors into the speed-solving groove. Tournament officials fanned out to distribute puzzles to waiting hands. Even a mundane activity like this was exciting to competitors, because the 65 officials are the “glitterati” of the crossword world: the puzzle constructors and editors who deliver their obsession to them on a daily basis.

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Participants raise their hands when finished with a puzzle so volunteers can mark their time and score.CreditBenjamin Norman for The New York Times

A large, digital clock ticked down the minutes — as if solving next to national speed-solving champions wasn’t pressure enough — and those who finished within the time limit mingled outside the ballroom to compare notes. The competitive aspect might be about speed, but the holy grail for all but a handful of the top solvers is to come away with a “clean” puzzle, which is one that is completed with no mistakes.

Six crossword puzzles of varying sizes and difficulties were completed on Saturday. This included the notorious Puzzle 5 — created this year by digital crosswords editor Joel Fagliano — and which Mr. Shortz referred to as the most mind-bending of the weekend’s challenges, using more colorful language than is allowed here.

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Joel Fagliano, the constructor of puzzle 5, holds up a participant’s entry that had some choice words for him.CreditBenjamin Norman for The New York Times

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Jan Marks elected to use a headlight to help him see his puzzle.CreditBenjamin Norman for The New York Times

It’s a mentally draining day by any standard, but there were social activities to bolster the weary.

Some who were flummoxed by a confusing theme in Puzzle 4 joined the survivors of Puzzle 5 in the Marriott bar to unwind over cocktails.

At 8 p.m., the ballroom filled once again. Matt Ginsberg talked about his computer program, Dr. Fill, which solved the more straightforward puzzles in a matter of seconds. A few people who resented Dr. Fill’s speed enjoyed the schadenfreude when the program missed a more complex theme that the human solvers understood. Robots have yet to outdo humans when it comes to playing with words.

If the ins and outs of computer programming were not to one’s taste, there was always a 10-minute play, by the playwright Donna Hoke, featuring a human crossword puzzle and his Sudoku sidekick, both of whom attempt to pick up a flirtatious pencil in a bar.

Sunday was all about trying to topple the reigning champion, Mr. Feyer, in the finals, but first there was the talent show. While the officials graded Puzzle 7, which was meant to shake out the top contenders, competitors and puzzle makers alike strutted their stuff with inside jokes, songs and performances about the joys and trials of crossword puzzle solving.

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Emmy, a service dog of a judge, naps on a crossword-themed blanket in the judges room.CreditBenjamin Norman for The New York Times

Midway through the singing and dancing, an official quietly slipped Mr. Shortz the latest standings that told him who would be going to the final rounds. The tournament offers prizes for a variety of age and geographic divisions, but only nine people — three in each of the A, B and C divisions — solved Puzzle 8 in front of the entire audience.

All three divisions get increasingly difficult cluing for the same puzzle, but the rarefied A division is for the top money — first prize is $5,000 — and the three solvers, Mr. Feyer, Mr. Agard and David Plotkin of Gainesville, Fla., had to puzzle the very hardest clues out. This year, the puzzle for the final round was made by the assistant crosswords editor, Sam Ezersky.

It’s at this point that the formerly “word nerd” atmosphere began to resemble a rowdy sporting event.

Color commentary was led by a puzzle maker, Greg Pliska, as well as Ophira Eisenberg, host of NPR’s “Ask Me Another” quiz show.

An audible gasp arose when a C division solver missed having a clean puzzle by one letter, and the entire room cheered whenever a finalist signaled that they were done. One of the B division finalists scrawled “Hi, Mom!” on the side of her puzzle. Photos and videos were taken and immediately posted on social media to let the members of the crossword puzzle tribe who couldn’t attend know what was happening.

As Jack Lechner, from Arlington, said, “This might be the only annual sporting event in which a rookie can go head-to-head with a national champion.”

Correction:

An earlier version of this article misstated the town in which contestant David Plotkin lives. He lives in Gainesville, Fla., not Starkville, Miss.

The finals were documented by The Wall Street Journal language columnist Ben Zimmer. Spoiler alert: If you are still solving along at home, this video contains the answers to Puzzle 8. There is also some not-safe-for-work language.